Out of Reach
by MattHarrisFF
Summary: Carolina Jacobs is the worlds only Consulting Journalist, working alongside the force to help solve cases and only writing about what they let her, when they let her. Her work forces her to move to London and, by chance, she moves into 221C Baker Street. The resulting clash between Sherlock Holmes and Carolina causes sparks to fly, before tempering into an unlikely friendship.


The girl was the only person in the train car. The sun had yet to rise above the sleepy London skyline, the moon still hung high in the sky, yet she was wide awake. Her eyes wide with excitement, the twinkle of adventure, and the promise of a fresh start. All the paperwork had been filled in, the money had changed hands, and the delivery men had dropped all of her belongings off the day before. Now she just had to arrive, to settle in, and as the train pulled into Baker Street Station Carolina Jacobs couldn't help the grin that overcame her face.

 _xxx_

Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, paced back and forth in the living room of his flat. He was, as usual, bored. The flow of cases that had been coming in had slowed somewhat over the past days and shooting the wall was only really enjoyable when someone was around to be annoyed by it. There was the small matter of the person moving into the flat below, 221C, but Mrs Hudson had told him that she wouldn't be arriving until today, even though her stuff had arrived the day before. That in itself was interesting and probability dictated that she had lived a somewhat busy lifestyle before her move, a job that required absolute dedication until the very last moment. Busy lifestyle, a dedicated woman, that implied that she would at least be slightly intelligent. Obviously not to his level, but nevertheless, smart. He was frustrated that he hadn't met her yet and Mrs Hudson wouldn't even give him a name. It was obvious that the older woman didn't want him prying into the new tenants life, not that it would matter, she would be plain and open to him the moment he laid eyes on her.

Since John had moved out to live with Mary his days had often resorted to pacing about in an agitated fashion. He cast his eyes briefly over John's unoccupied chair, that brief pang of longing for companionship that he had been unable to stamp out tickling at his chest. Yes John had moved on since his prolonged absence, but that hadn't meant that he'd needed to move out. Sherlock missed the other man, and whilst he wouldn't say it aloud, he was silently hoping that the woman downstairs would be able to match the Doctor's intelligence and curiosity, lest he be forced to start taking Molly on cases again, and lord knows that had been a disaster the first time round.

The bang of a door downstairs being sharply shut broke Sherlock out of his mental musing. Not the front door, but the door to one of the downstairs flats. He frowned at that, Mrs Hudson had left to go shopping only half an hour ago and probably wouldn't be back for another hour at the least. The stairs leading up to his flat creaked under the light tread of what could only be the new neighbour, meaning she would have arrived late at night. Interesting, the sort of person who got things done quickly then. She had probably come straight from work and arrived in the early hours of the morning. Sherlock glanced at the clock that rested on the mantle piece, it was still relatively early at nine in the morning, thus she didn't sleep much either. Though adjusting to a new place may have had something to do with that.

She hesitated at his front door, probably nervous, before allowing herself to knock. Sherlock waited for a moment, unwilling to make it seem to the new woman that he was over eagre to meet her. He was Sherlock Holmes, not some poor and lonely romantic man. He closed the gap between himself and the door and opened it quickly, his cold mask of indifference quickly coming over his face.

"Hi, I'm the new neighbour downstairs, just thought I would come up and say hello, get to know the people in the flat sort of thing," she grinned, brushing a stray piece of brunette hair out of her blue-grey eyes.

Sherlock allowed his eyes to pass over her quickly. She was dressed in a simple tshirt and jean combination with a pair of red converse on her feet. Her eyes betrayed her excitement and the way her mouth tilted upward slightly showed her apprehension. She held herself confidently, though, hands in pockets and posture straight. Those excited eyes were inquisitive, meeting his as if she were working him out just as he were working her out.

"Quite," Sherlock stated simply. "By your excitement and apprehension I can tell that you probably already know who I am. You've dressed in an overly casual manner which suggests that you know of my particular skillset and are, in fact, attempting to challenge my intellect to see how much I can work out by looking at a relatively ordinary and blank canvas. A commendable effort, and one which betrays a certain degree of intelligence. That intelligence mixed with your inquisition, you came up here to find me instead of waiting for me to inevitably meet you, and the fact your job pays you enough to rent a place in London alone narrows what you could potentially do significantly. You probably moved here because your job required a move to the city, and the fact you arrived so late at night suggests you have not changed jobs but have merely changed location. My first suggestion would be business of some kind, but if that were the case you wouldn't be afforded the luxury of a Friday off, intelligent and well paid with a job in London, inquisition and curiosity… Journalist?"

Carolina was grinning by the end of Sherlock's deductions, her eyes wide and impressed. "Carolina Jacobs," she all but chuckled, extending a hand toward the tall man, "and right on all accounts."

Sherlock ignored the hand, he didn't get on well with journalists. They were always looking for the next big scoop and more often than not that happened to be him.

"If you're looking for an inside scoop you won't find one by moving in downstairs, I don't have time for Journalists," He stated harshly and shut the door in her face.

Carolina let out a short laugh at Sherlock's antics, in truth she wasn't offended at all. Mrs. Hudson had already warned her of the man's brazen and cold nature towards new people and had informed her that it might take him a little while to warm up to her. It didn't help that she was, indeed, a journalist. Even more so that she specialised in crime, which he had probably worked out as well. She hadn't moved to Baker Street specifically to get closer to the man, though Carolina had to admit that it was a bonus she couldn't pass up.

She slipped back into her own flat, not bothering to shut the door, and grabbed her jacket off of the hook. Her next stop would be Scotland Yard, she had to familiarise herself with the people that worked on the crime scenes, she'd found in the past that it helped to be friends with people on the force to get the best interviews and information. That was how she had risen so quickly in the ranks of her field in her home city of Manchester, befriending those who were on the scene often allowed her to get closer than most of the other journalists permitted access to certain areas.

It didn't take her long to hail a cab and arrive at the station. The bubbly giddiness she always felt when meeting new work partners had already risen to the surface, and although the officers of the force weren't necessarily work partners they were pretty close to it. She'd offer them the same deal that she had offered the people in Manchester. She would offer to help on their cases, give them the insight she had gained from her years in the field as a crime journalist, and in return she would ask to be given priority access to any major cases when they were allowed to publicate them. Naturally, she would never breach the terms of that agreement if it were made and write up a story early. It would be a relationship built on trust, and had worked astoundingly well in the north. She chuckled to herself slightly as she walked up to the doors of the yard, as much as Sherlock was a consulting detective she was a consulting Journalist.

"How can I help you miss," The receptionist in the lobby asked, a smile on her face which Carolina returned.

"I have a meeting scheduled with Detective Inspector Lestrade, Carolina Jacobs," She replied, allowing herself to lean up against the desk slightly. The other woman glanced down at her computer screen and typed in the name she had been given.

"Yep, I've got that right here. I'll just get someone to take you up?"

"That would be great, thank you so much," Carolina replied, the smile never leaving her face.

A few seconds later a large man emerged from the lift to the lobby's right, not Lestrade from the pictures and interviews she had seen with the man, just an officer. He didn't say anything and his face was both cold and stern, his eyes darting over her quickly like a predator would to a prey animal. She shivered, slightly unnerved by the man, which was probably the point. He was clearly trying to let her know that if she tried anything he would have no trouble in dealing with her. Not that a criminal would waltz into the heart of the London police force and try something spectacular anyway, but she supposed that was one of the reasons why. Effective deterrents.

She followed him silently, hands in pockets, trying to appear confident but not arrogant. The trick to this meeting going off successfully was confidence. If she could convince him that she was smart, trustworthy and confident then she may be able to occupy a similar position as Sherlock. She had already explained the idea to her paper and they had fallen in love with it instantly, they would have a pseudo-cop on the team who had an all access pass to the juiciest crime stories in London and she got to have fun working on cases. Truly it was a win situation for everyone involved.

Detective Inspector Lestrade looked up from the papers on his desk as she entered the room. She greeted him with a smile and an outstretched hand. "Carolina Jacobs, thank you so much for meeting me Detective Inspector," she said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Please, call me Greg," he stood to meet her handshake before gesturing for her to sit down. "Now, as I understand it from your E-mail you have a proposition to pose?"

She nodded. "I work The Times, as you know from my messages, and have recently moved down to London from Manchester. Whilst working up North I had an agreement with the local police services, I assisted them on cases and got an all access pass to crime scenes, with stipulations on what to and when to publish stories."

"And you want a similar position with us here?"

She nodded once more. "Naturally my paper will be the one paying my wage and not the force. From my time working with crime news I've gathered a lot of experience, more so when I worked with the force in Manchester. I'd like to think I could bring a relatively fresh insight to assist on cases here because of that."

Greg nodded at that, clearly enticed by the offer she had sent his way. He was used to unorthodox methods, of course, from working with Sherlock. He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the shrill ringing off his offices phone. He shot Carolina an apologetic look as he picked it up, but she merely shook her head and smiled in response, urging him to go on with the call.

"Lestrade," he answered with, before waiting a few moments. She saw his face pale slightly to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. "Right, okay, I'm on my way with a team," he stated before putting the phone down.

"What happened?" Carolina asked, her voice laced with concern.

She could tell Lestrade was deciding on whether he should or shouldn't let her in on the potential case. Eventually he let out a sigh of defeat. "Ground rules," he stated. "You don't write about or publish anything until we give you the go ahead. Any sooner and this potential relationship between you and the force ends, okay?" Carolina nodded eagerly. "Today will be a trial run. If you're useful and get on with members of the team, and probably Sherlock Holmes, then I'll see no reason to refuse your partnership offer."

"Greg, I cannot tell you how much this opportunity means to me. Regarding Sherlock, I live in the flat below him."

Greg let out a laugh at that. "You know, for some reason I'm not entirely surprised at that."

And then they were off, speeding off in a police cruiser toward a crime scene. Although Carolina had only just arrived in London, she'd never felt more at home.

 _ **AN: Not really sure whether this is worth continuing or not. I've always liked the idea of someone who is smart, not as good as Sherlock but still good, coming in and working alongside the force. But yeah, this may or may not end up being Sherl/OC but for now it is just going to be a sort of 'monster of the week' fun detective story that takes place in S3, after ep 1 but before ep 2.**_


End file.
